


Abhorsen in waiting

by Marvelouswrites



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Deviates From Canon, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelouswrites/pseuds/Marvelouswrites
Summary: An Abhorsen-in-waiting accidentally looses a danger into the world. It's up to him, his Clayr aunt, a misfit Necromancer and an Ancelstierran inventor to keep disaster from happening.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Jonas was always happy to visit the Great Library of the Clayr. When he had been younger, his father had often brought him to visit the glacier, leaving him to run free and explore where he'd been allowed - and sometimes where he wasn't. All those adventures and happy memories came back to him now as he stood in the Lower Refectory, waiting to meet his Aunt. 

Jonas had been born to the previous Abhorsen's cousin - a man named Jeralt - and one of the Clayr, Marianne. The Clayr often took lovers from the many visitors, and it was rare for a child without the Sight to be born; even rarer for it to be a boy. Jeralt and Marianne had remained close and so Jonas had gotten to spend much of his youth amongst his many, many white clad cousins, dashing about the rose garden, getting under foot in the kitchens - playing with the hounds and watching in awe as the Paperwings took off and landed way, way at the top of the glacier. Inhaling the delicious aroma of whatever was for lunch, Jonas leaned back and rested his hand on the hilt of his new sword - a gift from his father when he'd been named Abhorsen-in-waiting.

His surcoat was new as well, the deep blue fabric resplendent with tiny silver keys, embroidered with fantastic skill by the Sendings at Abhorsen's house.  
It was a little too big.  
Jonas wore no bells, but in his bag was a set of silver pan pipes, and wrapped in a thick black oil skin wrapping, The Book of the Dead. 

Just thinking about what was contained in that slim green-bound volume sent a small shiver down Jonas's spine, and he hurriedly opened his eyes, happy to keep his focus on the hustle and bustle of the Lower Refectory. He'd only been named Abhorsen-in-waiting a few weeks ago, and his Uncle Celemier was intent on instructing his nephew slowly and methodically, for which Jonas was grateful. The Dead frightened him, which The Abhorsen insisted was a good thing.

"A healthy amount of fear keeps you vigilant, cautious. You will soon grow to accept and understand this burden, nephew, but for now; better fearful than reckless." 

A familiar voice calling his name broke Jonas from his thoughts and he squinted amongst the mass of people, finally catching sight of his Aunt Katherine as she squeezed between two traders in heavy iron hauberks. She smiled as she caught his eye, and her deep brown eyes - so similar to his own and his mother's - crinkled at the corners. Like the rest of the Clayr, Katherine had nut brown skin covered in freckles and silvery blonde hair, piled into a bun on top of her head. Her eyes were one of the few things that set her apart from the rest of her cousins and aunts and sisters; most Clayr had cool blue or green eyes, but Katherine's were brown and warm. She embraced him tightly as they met, his chin bumping clumsily against the crown of her head.  
After a tight squeeze that nearly drove the air from his lungs, she held him at arms length and looked her nephew up and down.

"My word, what are they doing to you up in Belisare?! Stretching you on a rack? You must have grown a foot since I last saw you!" Jonas smiled and shrugged, pleased she'd noticed. At fifteen, Jonas was one of the tallest boys his age and it was a point of pride.

"Hello Aunt Katherine- perhaps you've just gotten shorter!" Jonas joked. That was the other thing that set his Aunt apart; nearly all the Clayr were tall and willowy, elegant in their trailing white gowns and moonstone circlets. Katherine was short and always tended to look rather windswept - as if she'd just gotten back from a Paperwing flight. She frowned sternly at his jibe, but the expression broke after only a moment and she linked her arm with his.

"Perhaps I have, but tell me about you! Abhorsen-in-waiting! How are you feeling?"   
They walked through the crowded room, heading towards the quieter halls of the Glacier paths. Jonas shrugged, the warm feeling of reuniting with his favourite family member passing as his mind went back to the book lying inside his pack. He cleared his throat, knowing full well it would be useless to lie; his Aunt was an almost absurdly keen observer.  
Jonas rubbed at the back of his neck, waiting for another Clayr to pass before he looked down at his Aunt with a slight frown.

"To tell the truth...I'm very nervous." He said quietly, relieved to speak to someone who didn't carry the weight of a lofty title.

"I know I've only just started the Abhorsen training but I, Aunt Katherine...I'm afraid." His voice dropped to a near whisper and held her arm a little tighter. He knew he was being childish, he was fifteen, by all accounts a man and the Abhorsen-in-waiting nonetheless. But he still felt comforted when Katherine patted his hand in a reassuring manner.

"It's a frightening thing they're asking of you Jonas," she said seriously, her voice equally low.

"This is no small burden to bear. Being honest with yourself and your feelings is very important." They moved past a little knot of Clayr who smiled and nodded in greeting. Jonas nodded in turn, feeling a lump settle in his throat.  
He knew it was no small burden, that was what was troubling him.

They made their way through the halls, pausing every once and a while to greet a distant aunt or cousin, and skirting a tunnel that had recently collapsed due to the glacier's blind and unstoppable journey towards the valley far below. Nearly a quarter of an hour later, Jonas and his aunt reached the wide curving archway that began the descent into the Great Library of the Clayr.

"Now, what is it exactly The Abhorsen has sent you to fetch?" Katherine asked as she unlocked the door with a heavy key she withdrew from the front pocket of her blue waistcoat, the colour indicating her position as a First Assistant Librarian. When Jonas had first visited, Katherine had worn the yellow of a Third Assistant Librarian and when he spent time with her they would while away the hours in the Assistants Lounge. Now however, his Aunt had her own private chambers in the library, which included a very cozy study. He was eager to reach the quiet room, to sit in front of the crackling fire and speak more openly with his Aunt. 

"Mm, something from the…" Jonas reached into his leather satchel to dig out the note his uncle had given him, unfolding the heavy parchment and reading off it 

"Something from the Lower level, the Starshine chamber. You'll know it when you see it, whatever that means." He finished with a shrug, re-folding the note and tucking it away.

"He wasn't more specific than that, I'm afraid." He said as Katherine frowned, tapping a finger against her lower lip in thought.

"The lower levels...Starshine Chamber...yes, I know where that is. Come on, let's go fetch this...something or other and then have a spot of tea and catch up." She closed the door behind them and started down the seemingly endless spiral staircase that made up the bulk of the library.

The lower levels were where the Clayr kept their most dangerous secrets; objects of immense power, books of ancient Charter magic, and even more obscure things. Jonas couldn't help but crane his neck as they passed door after door, some of them open - showing bookshelves and walls laden with heavy tapestries, collections of armor in ancient styles that bore no dust. One room, which his aunt had to pull him away from, contained a beautiful meadow, complete with a weeping willow and hundreds and hundreds of red flowers carpeting the room from wall to wall. 

"Come on Jonas, nearly there." Katherine scolded. The whole way down she kept one hand on the black handled dagger tucked into the leather belt at her waist. Jonas knew that it was Charter spelled steel, designed to fend off all manner of Free Magic creatures. He could see the marks melded into the steel, endlessly roiling across the metal like oil on water. Marks for burning, for cutting, and for binding. 

All Charter mages could see Charter marks if they concentrated, but for Jonas it was as easy as reading letters on a page. That certainly didn't mean he was a skilled adept, oh no. Just because he could see the marks clear as day did not mean he could muster them, although he was fairly advanced in Charter magic classes. He absently pushed a lock of wavy hair from his forehead, feeling the Charter mark there. It bloomed with a comforting warmth and a sense of peace washed over him, helping to soothe the ever present anxiety at his new position.

"And here we are... the Starshine chamber, just a moment." They had stopped in front of a large door, wide enough across for two people to enter abreast. The door was painted a deep, royal blue, the colour of a midnight sky and speckled with silver stars. Katherine raised her right arm, a thick silver bracelet studded with seven emeralds swung with the motion and Jonas saw four of the seven gems flash brilliant green. There was a click as the door unlocked itself and slowly swung ajar, Katherine grabbed the handle to pull it the rest of the way. Jonas swallowed, fiddling with the hem of his new surcoat, silver keys glinting in the Charter lit hallway. In here, somewhere, was the thing he would supposedly know when he saw it.

The door finished opening and Katherine waved her arm again. Lights in the ceilings and walls slowly bloomed into magical life, filling the room with a soft, silvery light. 

Jonas gasped.

The entire room, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, was entirely full of stuff.

Boxes and trunks, iron bound chests with golden filigree, simple barrels and bags of cloth, bags of what looked like animal skin, metal bins, strange bronze circular containers and open topped baskets covered every inch of the floor. The walls were lined with shelves that stretched ten feet or more to the carved stone ceiling, which was painted dark blue and spangled with stars and Charter marks to echo the door leading inside. The shelves were carved from a rich mahogany and filled to bursting with all manner of things. 

There was so much Jonas couldn't even begin to focus in one place. It was like a puzzle; his eye was drawn to a strange statue of a squashed in horse, marveling at the way the translucent stone caught the light which led his eye over to a cracked mirror, dark with age, reflected within that he saw a magnificent red cloak embroidered in bronze which seemed to wave at him in an unfelt wind. He had to shut his eyes to keep himself from looking, as he felt he might become lost in the maze of it all.

"Well, I don't envy you having to go through this mess," Katherine said wryly, setting her hand on her hip and surveying the crowded room. Jonas opened his eyes again and looked down at her in bewilderment. 

"How am I supposed to- there isn't even a space to stand!" He exclaimed. It was true, the room was so jam-packed with items the carved stone floor was impossible to see; the piles of books and boxes flowed directly up to the door. Jonas was surprised they hadn't been buried in a flood of detritus as soon as the door had opened. His aunt smiled kindly and patted his shoulder.

"Give it a try at least, here, I'll get you started." She reached out with a black booted foot and gently nudged a box with her toe. 

To Jonas's amazement, the box and the rest of the clutter seemed to pull away from the door frame, although it didn't appear that the box itself had moved. It was as if the floor itself had expanded somehow; adjusted its size to make room, but everything looked the same. He cautiously put a foot on to the newly exposed stone and more space was made to accommodate him.   
Looking around in amazement, Jonas listened hard, trying to hear the grinding of stone or some sort of indication that the floor was moving, but there was nothing. Jonas stepped fully into the room, reaching out to the Charter to try and understand the magic in this strange place. The golden marks were varied and confusing, and Jonas felt his concentration waver as someone called out behind them. 

"Oh thank the Charter - Katherine! Katherine, there you are!" Another Clayr, wearing the same blue waistcoat as his aunt and looking very out of breath, had just dashed up the corridor to meet them.

"Anniel, what's the matter?" Katherine asked, looking at her cousin in concern.

"There's a-" Anniel cut herself off as she caught sight of Jonas, peering at her around the star painted door. She frowned and smoothed the front of her waistcoat, seeming to take a moment to compose herself in front of an outsider. Jonas sighed inwardly. Even though he had been partially raised here among them, many of the Clayr considered his occasional visits into the less public places within the glacier to be an intrusion. The other librarians in particular were always frowning at him. Anniel seemed to be a member of that group, as she was looking at him with distrust and annoyance.

"There's an issue I need your help with, quickly." Anniell continued in a more business-like tone. Katherine's brow furrowed.

"Can it wait? We're in the middle of-"  
Anniel shook her head vehemently.

"No, its urgent, library business." She added in a serious undertone with a meaningful look in Jonas's direction. Katherine frowned but nodded.

"Alright." She looked to her nephew and said,

"Jonas, go ahead and get started without me, I'll be right back." Before she and Anniel headed off down the stairs. 

Jonas sighed and watched his aunt hurry off down the spiral hallway deeper into the library until she had disappeared around one of the carved stone pillars. He sighed again and turned back to the confusing room.   
Best to get started.


	2. Chapter 2

Searching through the clutter of the Starshine room was a more enjoyable experience than Jonas would have expected. It was full of fascinating things; Charter spelled trinkets and less magical but no less interesting baubles that he couldn't help but play with. He'd set aside a small pile of things that might be what his uncle had sent him for; an unusually styled helmet enameled in the blue field and silver key motif of the Abhorsen. An unassuming bag that appeared to be made of scuffed leather, but when Jonas had reached into it to see what might be inside his whole arm had fit up to the shoulder. There was also a small dagger that appeared to have belonged to a librarian at one point, and a pair of ancient Charter spelled gloves. The marks were mostly faded, but with a little effort Jonas thought he might be able to wake them again.

As he searched, the room would expand itself whenever he'd finished looking through what was directly in front of him; it was a strange sensation, particularly because he couldn't feel it happen. Jonas would simply look up to grab the next item and things would have rearranged themselves; a jeweled box he had seen near the opposite wall a few minutes before was now directly in front of him, even though he was still sitting in the middle of the room.   
Humming idly to himself, Jonas picked up the small box and set it on his lap, turning it this way and that to see if he might be able to open it, running his fingers gently over the dark wood. The box was bound in beaten copper, patterns carved into the metal glinting under the charter lights as Jonas tilted the box back to get a better look at the front. 

"Let's see here…" he muttered, gently prodding the simple latch. It popped open with just the slightest hint of resistance. Intrigued, Jonas reached inside and carefully lifted out the contents. 

"Well...that's interesting." 

In his hands was a statute of some kind, made of the same copper that bound the box. Jonas held it up to the light to get a better look. It was shaped like an egg, ornately carved with whorls and patterns set on a base in the shape of a wave. Three gently curved legs flowed down to end in clawed feet like a ravens. The egg was made of three hinged doors, overlayed with a copper mesh and surmounted with a small lock.

There was no keyhole, just an odd sort of spike, thin as a needle placed at the very center where a keyhole would have been.  
There was Charter magic in the lock as well, marks for binding and sealing; clearly someone had wanted to keep this box shut tight. But they were old, and not very strong, seemingly placed there as an afterthought. 

Many spells could be broken by blood, as the spike on the lock seemed to indicate. All he would have to do is prick his finger and the box would open. 

Jonas hesitated.   
He couldn't feel any particular evil from the box, maybe this had just been a place where someone long ago had kept their most precious possessions, the lock tied to their blood and theirs alone. If so, picking his finger wouldn't break the spell, and was it his place to go snooping around? 

The egg shaped container seemed to want to be opened, wanted to share whatever secret it might contain.

He looked back to the door, closed tight and miraculously only a few feet away. Chewing his lip, Jonas looked back to the box.  
It probably wouldn't even open for him.

Letting out a breath that puffed his cheeks, Jonas pressed his index finger to the needle. 

A sharp prick of pain and a small bead of blood dripped from his finger along the thin copper needle, washing the metal in a deep red. Jonas watched, suddenly feeling very apprehensive as the blood slid down and filled the roughly carved whorls of the lock. A breath of a second later, there was a quiet click and the mesh cover of the egg sprung open, unfolding like a flower and making him jump.

Nothing else happened. The solid copper layer underneath remained shut. Even more intrigued, Jonas turned the thing around and saw at the base, previously hidden by the mesh over layer, was a small key. Jonas pulled it free and held it in one hand while he turned the copper egg around in the other. At the front, nestled between two of the mesh petals was a key hole. Frowning, Jonas inserted the key and turned it, the metal sliding easily into the slot and turning fully around and around, cranking against tiny gears. After three full turns there was a satisfying click and the metal egg began to emit a tinkling and gentle tune, a pretty song he didn't recognize. Jonas held the egg closer to his face and as he watched, the copper surface opened.

Inside was a miniscule figure of a dancer, made from painted wood. Her arms were curved up and as the music played, the figurine slowly revolved on the spot, tiny arms moving up and down. Smiling, Jonas set the music box on the floor to let it play. What a build up for something so simple. How odd for such a thing to be sealed by blood. He let his chin rest on his hand and watched the little dancer spin until it began to go faster, wooden arms jerking and head twisting oddly. The song sped up too, becoming discordant and jangly, playing far faster than the tiny gears had been designed to. Jonas frowned and leaned forwards as the figurine jerked alarmingly, one arm breaking off and head flipping backwards as the music came to a squealing, shrieking crescendo.   
With a horrible grinding sound, the figurine burst apart and the bottom of the music box broke open, a roiling ball of shadow pushing through the metal and wood to pool onto the stone floor of the Starshine chamber.

Jonas cried out and flung an arm over his face to protect his eyes from the debris, lurching backwards and falling heavily on his elbow. A jarring pain lanced up to his ear and he looked back, eyes widening in fear and alarm as he saw the shadow coalesce into the wiggling shape of a rat. His sense of Death swelled as the rat thing looked around, pinpricks of red light blooming in odd places on the shadowy head.

A Dead spirit, here!? Cursing his curiosity, Jonas rolled over to scrabble for the bag at his waist, fingers reaching for the silvery metal of the panpipes.  
The shadow rat seemed to focus on him as he moved and quick as a real rat, it scuttled past him towards the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Jonas gasped, rolling onto his stomach and pressing the panpies to his lips. But which pipe to blow? In his panic, he couldn't recall which pipe was which. Smallest, Ranna, was the safest.   
He blew. 

A tinny note, with no power behind it, was all that came out. The rat thing was pressing against the door, shape melting and changing as it tried to find a crack to pour through. Jonas swore and scrambled to his feet, fear and shame at being unable to use the pipes when he needed to spurring him onwards. He tried again, focusing hard, and a true note sounded from the Ranna pipe. The rat thing slowed its frantic scrambling and Jonas leapt forward, hand going to the hilt of his sword.

The door opened.

In a split second, as the light from the hallway poured through the opening door Jonas felt his will waver and the rat thing recover. Making itself narrower than any real rat, it slipped through the door and into the library proper.

"Jonas, how is it go-" Katherine's words were cut off as Jonas barreled through the door after the thing, slamming the door wide open and knocking his aunt to the floor. 

"Sorry Aunt Katherine!" He hollered without looking, focused intently on the shadow rat as it dashed down the stairs. His hobnailed boots clattered against the stone stairs as he ran pell-mell after the Dead spirit. It kept losing its shape, seeming more liquid than anything else as it poured down the stairs, red lights glinting like too many eyes within the mass of darkness. Jonas shoved past a librarian, apologizing as he knocked her books to the floor, he skipped and spun awkwardly around a table, banging his hip sharply as the hall flattened out into a straight path. The shadow creature seemed to know it was being closed in on, and it put on a burst of speed; many many rat legs forming and reforming as it desperately pulled itself onward. Jonas pumped his arms and ran as fast as he could, pipes and sword forgotten in his panic. The hallway was rapidly coming to an end, only closed doors on either side. Jonas smiled grimly. No place for the thing to go now. Gritting his teeth, Jonas dumped all his energy into one final, desperate out-pouring of speed and flung himself onto the thing, arms outstretched, diving head-first to catch it. 

With an echoing thud that drove the wind from his lungs, Jonas landed right on top of the shadow.  
It was horribly cold and stank of Free Magic, the metallic tang making him gag as he reached up to press the pipes to his lips. The rat thing squirmed and roiled, it's mass leaking through the gap under his arms and Jonas pawed at it as he tried to regain enough air to blow. But it was like trying to hold onto oil, the thing pouring past his grasping fingers to melt against the wall. Too late, Jonas's eyes widened as he saw the previously unnoticed gap in the stones. Too late, he drew enough breath to blow the pipes.

Too late.

The Dead shadow was seeping through the crack in the library wall and into the glacier beyond.

A Dead spirit was loose in the Clayr's home.

And it was all Jonas's fault.


	3. Chapter 3

The bus, with its blue stripes running horizontal along its more traditional yellow body was an odd sight as it rumbled along the road. It was a school bus, designed to ferry children from home to their place of learning and back again, not trek across the less than perfectly paved roads of northern Ancelstierre, near to the border wall with the Old Kingdom.But here it was, trundling along, bouncing its young passengers around as it drove. The bus was at least living up to it's legacy by driving children to a school of sorts. The bus was bound for Livingstone's Academy; a boarding school and orphanage that housed children considered too old or unruly for traditional adoption. There were fifteen young people on the bus, ranging from a ten year old girl with a penchant for starting fires in the back to a sixteen year old boy clutching a rucksack near the front. This boy was named Theodore Runes, Teddy to his friends, and had just lost his only remaining relative to a bout of pneumonia three weeks prior. Teddy sunk further into the old leather seat, hugging his rucksack to his chest - mostly to keep its delicate contents from being smashed to bits by the rough ride. 

He was staring out the window, half watching the scenery roll by and half looking at his own reflection; the clouds painting shadows across his two-toned skin. Teddy sighed; his distorted reflection reminded him of his dear old Nan. He recalled the last night he'd spoken to her before she passed, her frail hands clutched tight in his. She'd smiled, and reached up to touch one of the pink patches over his eye before touching her own matching mark. 

"Chin up Teddy, I'll always be with you - every time you look in the mirror, we're a matched set you and I." She'd laughed, the sound quickly turning to a horrible racking cough that shook her wasted frame.  
The memory was painful but still made him smile, and he touched the pink mark just where she had.

"Hey Nan, I'm keeping my chin up, just like you told me." He whispered, so softly his words were lost in the rumble of the bus's engine. Teddy had been keeping his chin up, comforting the younger children as best he could on the long ride to Bain. Most of them were asleep now, heads bouncing against seat rests, and so he undid the straps on his pack, peering in to make sure his precious cargo was safe. Inside, carefully wrapped in his clothes, were several small inventions. Little devices designed to make the mundanities of life simpler. Teddy reached in and gingerly removed a striped sweater, wincing as the bus went over a particularly deep pothole that swung the entire carriage from side to side. When the naseauting motion had settled, Teddy unwrapped the shirt to reveal a small metal device; it had several delicate arms set into a squat, rectangular frame. He turned it around, inspecting each joint and wire to make sure nothing was amiss. 

"What's that?" A sleepy voice from behind him asked, and Teddy turned to see Victoria leaning over the top of the seat, her red hair all bunched up on one side from sleeping. Teddy smiled and held up the little device.

"It's a laundry folder - I made it for my Nan." He said, a note of pride in his voice. Victoria yawned widely; she was only eleven, and had lost both her parents and sister in a car accident. 

"How's it work?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. Teddy held up the laundry folder to show her more easily.

"Well, you plug it in and put a piece of clothing in front of it - you have to flip this dial here," he turned the box to show several dials and buttons at the back,

"To set whether it's folding shirts or trousers. Then, it sets to work! You can go off and have a cup of tea and when you come back, all your clothes will be folded." Victoria turned her head and pursed her lips, looking at the box critically.

"I think you should put a face on it Teddy - make it look more friendly, otherwise it looks like a toaster with bug legs " She said, with all the wisdom of an eleven year old girl. Teddy chuckled and held the laundry folder at arms length, turning it this way and that. The sunlight began to fade as more clouds rolled in, darkening the inside of the bus so much he had to squint.

"You think? Maybe a smile, and some eyes right here-" he was cut off as the engine of the bus stuttered and died, shuddering the vehicle to a coughing halt that sent its passengers every which way. Victoria yelped and nearly toppled into the aisle, and Teddy clung to his invention for dear life.   
Amidst the cries of dismay, the driver began to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Hold this will you Victoria? I'll go see what's wrong." Teddy handed the little girl his invention and she held it to her chest as if it were a teddy bear.

"Excuse me, what's-hey!" The driver, his seatbelt undone, suddenly bolted out the door of the bus, nearly toppling Teddy over in his haste.

"Hey! Come back!" Teddy called after him, pushing halfway out the door. He frowned as the man pelted away from them as if the devil himself was on his heels, leaving the bus and it's young passengers, stranded. There was a quiet murmur behind him, and Teddy turned back to look at the rest of the children.

"Ah, he probably left the stove on," he said in his best joking tone. Keep your chin up Teddy. The sky grew even darker, and the interior of the bus even darker still. Someone whimpered softly.

"I'm going to check on the engine, does anyone have a flashlight?" He paused, and after a moment's quiet several voices called 'no.' Teddy blew out a sharp breath and fixed his tie, trying to recall the voice his Nan had used when trying to keep order. 

"Victoria, Samuel, make sure everyone's alright, will you?" Teddy said before pushing open the door and hopping down to the cobblestone road.

It was unnervingly quiet outside of the bus. No birds called, no insects buzzed. Even the footsteps of the fleeing bus driver had faded into the distance, and Teddy felt a shiver run down his spine as he walked purposefully around to the hood of the bus, a sharp northerly breeze bringing a blast of cold air that poured down his collar. After some fumbling, he found the latch and heaved it open, pausing to pull down the front of his knitted vest before peering inside.

It was so dark he could barely make out the engines bulk. Biting his lip, Teddy did his best to try and see what might have caused the issue. Without a light of some kind it was a useless exercise however, and after a few seconds he was pacing in front of the open hood, thinking hard. Why had the driver run off like that? It didn't make any sense. He looked up and down the road, squinting in the near midnight darkness but he could see nothing. 

"Bloody hell…" he muttered, running his hands over his tightly cropped curls. It was impolite to swear, but if ever there was an appropriate time to curse it was now. 

Suddenly, he heard something. Teddy looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise.  
It sounded like footsteps, and more than one set; the driver, coming back with help maybe?   
He squinted, turning his head and putting a hand to his ear as he listened with all his might.

There was something...off about the footsteps, a sort of...dragging, shuffling sound as if the owners of the feet didn't know how to properly use them, and it sounded like they were coming from the North, from the direction of the old stone wall that marked the border between Ancelstierre and the Old Kingdom.

A chill ran down his spine.

Teddy had not grown up in the northern part of the country, but his Nan had told him stories. Horror stories meant to scare children, stories of the Dead rising, of magic and sorcerers and all manner of things too dark to be remembered in a frightening scenario like this.

But he did remember, and as the shuffling grew louder, a deep fear twisted like a knife in his gut.  
Not bothering to close the hood, Teddy dashed back to the bus, hopping inside with such speed the vehicle rocked a bit on its wheels. He turned and forced the doors shut, feeling for a lock of some kind, fingers scrabbling in the dark until he found a heavy latch and he slammed it into place. 

"Teddy? Did you fix the bus?" Victoria's soft voice floated out of the dark, and he turned quickly to see them all staring up at him, faces barely visible in the gloom.

"Ah, no, it's pretty broken I'm afraid." He said quickly, moving across the aisle to press his face to the window. Teddy cupped his hands against the glass as he stared out into the dark, keeping his eyes as wide as possible to try and catch any light at all. 

There. There in the dark not that far from the bus, he could see a dark mass, moving slowly towards them.

Teddy bit his lip again, turning quickly to face the rest of the children.

"Did anyone on the bus grow up here, in the North?" 

A small hand, barely visible in the dark, waved near the back.

"I did." A little boy - Joureth, Teddy thought his name was. Joureth had a solemn face and an even more solemn voice, which in other circumstances would have been charming on a twelve year old.

"What ah, what do you know about - about the wall, and the Old Kingdom, Joureth?" Teddy asked, trying desperately to keep his voice calm and light. Chin up Teddy. 

The bus went even quieter and Teddy heard Joureth take a deep breath.

"When the wind blows from the North, electricity doesn't work - and if it gets all dark, like this, we-we're supposed to go find a river, or or, hide in the basement with all the doors and windows locked." Joureth said. His voice quavered, and Teddy felt his heart seize as another gust of wind rocked the bus. Someone began to cry in the silence that followed Joureth's words. Teddy shushed whoever it was and held up his hands, trying to think.

"Joureth, do you know if there's a river near here, do you recognize the road we're on?" He asked quickly. He thought back to the shambling footsteps he'd heard, the mass moving out in the darkness. 

"N-no sir, I can't remember." Joureth said, his voice tightening into a sob as the bus rocked again. Teddy tried to smile, but in the dark he was sure no one could see him.

“That’s alright Joureth, I was just wondering, let’s all get to the center of the bus, shall we? In case it gets cold.” That didn’t make any sense, but the rest of the children quickly huddled together in the center aisle, pressing against each other in their fear. Teddy stood near the front of the bus, terrified and so out of his depth it felt like he was drowning.   
The bus rocked again, and several of the youngest children cried out, flinging their arms over their heads. Again the bus rocked, knocking them into each other and Teddy rocked back and forth, only keeping his balance by clinging to the tops of the leather seats with both hands. 

Fear turned his blood to ice, his knees trembled and his thumbs dug into the leather, pale patches of skin nearly glowing in the dark.   
The bus rocked again and again, nearly bouncing on it’s tires, the children screamed and Teddy saw Victoria clutching his laundry folder to her chest as she sobbed. Agonized, Teddy turned to look out of the bus, terrified at what he might see, but unwilling to not know what was going on. 

He swallowed a scream. 

Pressed against the windows of the bus were many, many hands - rotting hands, skeletal hands, hands with bits of tissue clinging between the bare knuckle bones; hands that were pushing the bus. Teddy felt the vehicle nearly tip over, and in blind panic, threw himself to the other side to try and balance the weight. His scant frame was hardly enough to keep a vehicle of this size balanced however, and the scream that had been bottled up inside him burst forth as the whole thing tipped, sending bags and small bodies hurtling to the opposite side. Teddy saw the dark ground rushing up towards him as the world spun, heard the screams of the children, of Victoria and Samuel and Joureth, and then knew no more.

Across the dark ground, up a small slope and in front of an even smaller copse of trees, two figures stood, watching the vehicle as the Dead Hands pushed it over. They were an odd pair; one tall and thin, draped in a heavy, fur-collared robe despite the fairly warm weather. The other was short and stout, arms bare except for the many intricate tattoos that swirled around from wrist to bicep. The taller one, a man with longish dark hair, greying at the temples, frowned as he heard what sounded like thin cries echoing up from the road below.

“What’s that - I thought the driver was supposed to have left the thing with just the cargo.” he asked his partner sharply. His voice was deep and musical, and his deep set, pale blue eyes burned into his partner’s protruding green ones. The shorter one shrugged her shoulders, the muscles under her tattooed skin rolling with the motion.

“What’s it matter?" She said, grinning at him. Her teeth had been sharpened to points. The man frowned, and reached down to touch the bandolier hung across his chest. This was the only commonality between him and the woman. Each wore broad leather bandoliers with seven pouches arranged across the front. And in each pouch was a bell, ranging in size from a pill box, to that of a clenched fist. Wooden handles hung down from the pouches, in easy range to grab and swing. These bells marked the odd pair as Necromancers, sorcerers who used free magic and the ringing of bells to summon and control the Dead.  
The man undid the clasp on the smallest pouch, freeing the smallest of the bells; Ranna - The Sleeper. His partner narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing.” she asked, hissing the words between her sharpened teeth.

“I need to check-” The man had taken a step forward, ragged cloak falling back with the motion to reveal well-worn leather armor, but the woman put a hand out to stop him.

“You know,” she began, voice still that snake-like hiss.

“I’ve put up with your...eccentricity for so long only because you’re useful to me; I’ve never seen a Necromancer control the Dead with such precision before I met you, even if you refuse - for some reason - to raise them yourself.” She held up a finger as the man made to push past her.

“However, that skill only gets you so far...don’t make me add another Hand to my collection, Shelley.” Shelley looked down at the woman, his scarred face twisted into a sneer.

“And I’ve never seen a Necromancer who couldn’t control the Dead they’d raised until I met you, Salisa - without me, you’d have been torn to pieces many times over, or have you forgotten Bar Hedrin.” He hissed back, shouldering his way past her outstretched finger. Salisa bared her teeth at Shelley’s back as he jogged down the hill, thick fingers going to her own bandolier and nervously touching the bell handles. It was true; her raw force of will could raise many Dead, but Mosrael swung clumsily in her hand, and the true binding tones of Saraneth were lost completely in her fingers. Without Shelley, Salisa could summon the Dead, but could barely control them. She bared her teeth and hissed into the wind - her control was limited, yes, but perhaps it would be enough to complete the task she had on her mind. 

Shelley made his way down the small hill, long strides carrying him easily through the tall grass at the side of the road. The Hands, all eighteen of them stock-still now that they had completed their task of tipping the vehicle, were silent as he moved past them to stand in front of the fallen behemoth. 

The job was supposed to be an easy one. Get some cargo, bring it back across the wall, deliver it. Simple, clean, no one was meant to get hurt. Those kinds of jobs were difficult to come across for a man in his position, and so he had convinced his ‘partner’ to take it. For Shelley was a Necromancer in only the loosest of definitions. He had gone into Death, but had never gone beyond the first gate. He could use Free Magic, but relied almost exclusively on Charter spells. He could control the Dead, with the bells, or his voice, even wrest control of them from another Necromancer, but never raised them himself. 

In truth, he had no stomach for it.

He looked up at the Ancelstierrian vehicle, it’s dark iron underbelly exposed like that of an animal ready to be split open and gutted. Shelley kept his gloved hand inside the cup of Ranna, fingers closed around the clapper to prevent the soft, sweet tone from sounding on its own. Instead, he pressed his lips together and hummed, changing the pitch gently until a quiet melody hung in the otherwise silent air. The Dead stepped back, rotting arms hanging loosely at their sides as they bent to his will. Shelley moved around to the front of the vehicle and peered inside, whispering a Charter mark for light as he did so. A soft, warm glow blossomed above his head, and he felt his control of the dead waver a little at the use of Charter magic. He hummed again, slightly louder this time, and the Dead remained still.

The Charter light offered little illumination to the inside of the vehicle, but Shelley saw enough. 

His blue eyes went wide as they met the terrified and bloodied face of a young man, red streaked across his pink and brown patched forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

Teddy came to slowly, and with a groan. Pain lanced through his head and his whole body ached. It felt like his knees were wrapped around his neck, whole body twisted like a pretzel. He opened his eyes.   
It was terribly dark, and as his vision came into focus he saw that the whole world was sideways, the seats of the bus jutting horizontally to where he lay. Disoriented, Teddy struggled to right himself; something was wrapped around his neck and he tugged at it weakly - the straps of a bag. He pulled, and the bag hit him in the back of the head. Seeing stars, Teddy slumped forward - or sideways - and slid the heavy bag from around his neck, gasping out ragged breaths into the strange and horrible silence. He shifted around some more, looking for the other passengers but could see nothing in the dark and the jumble of the tipped over school bus. He pushed himself as upright as he could manage and looked towards the front of the bus; he'd thought he'd heard music, a soft humming on the wind - but that was foolish, the only thing that had been out there were monsters. 

A dark shape knelt at the front of the bus, a hunched thing with no arms and massive, hulking shoulders. Teddy felt his heart seize up and he curled his fists, knowing full well there was nothing he could do but by god would he try.

Suddenly, a light bloomed above the crouching figure, warm light, that somehow seemed to radiate reassurance. Teddy squinted into the brilliance, fighting to keep his eyes open enough to see who or what was crouched on the other side of the cracked glass, barely a foot away from where he lay.

It was a man, a man wearing a heavy cloak with thick fur at the collar. The fur had been what made his shoulders look so huge, Teddy thought distractedly. Part of his mind - the overly analytical part - was distant from the situation and taking notice of many details. The light the man was holding, no not holding, Teddy realised - for both of the man's gloved hands were pressed against the glass - grew brighter as he stared, painting the man's haggard face in deep pools of shadow as the windshield suddenly cracked in a million places, zig zags spidering out from the splayed fingers to fall like crystalline snow in a pile on the sideways dashboard. The glass breaking made a high pitched squeal and tinkled as it slid down to pool on the still locked bus door.

Teddy screwed up his eyes and pulled a fist back as the man clambered inside, hunched over and awkward. With a hoarse shout, Teddy threw his fist forward, leaning into it with as much power as he could muster from his bruised and battered body. The blow connected, and his knuckles cracked against the man's stubbled jaw. Clearly surprised, the cloaked man half fell, half staggered back, one gloved hand going to his face as the light hanging over his head flickered and nearly went out.

"Hold!" The man said, raising his free hand to ward off another punch. Teddy, fists still clenched and raised high by his face, wavered. Perhaps this strangely dressed individual was here to help. 

"Easy, calm yourself boy." He spoke again, and there was a strange compulsory note to his low voice, a soothing sound that had Teddy lowering his fists without conscious thought. The man let go of his face and slowly straightened up, or as much as he could in the awkward terrain of the flipped bus.  
As he gained his balance, Teddy saw he was a middle aged, with long hair and scarred face. There was a hardness to his features, and under the cloak he wore strange leather armor and a belt of some kind across his chest.

"Who - who are you?" Teddy asked, not forgetting all those horrible rotting hands pressed against the windows. His eyes flicked to the man's hands. Under those gloves was there flesh? Or merely bone? As Teddy thought this, he caught a flash of something metal clutched in the cloaked man's hand. In the strange, unsteady light it looked like an upside down bell. The man shook his head, and then glanced over his shoulder, the light moving slightly with the motion.

"There's no time. Quickly, are there others in this thing with you?" The man spoke more softly, and with a sense of urgency in his voice. He looked furious, but Teddy knew instinctively that the anger was not directed at him. He nodded, attempted to turn and look but a tearing pain in his neck made him stop.  
The man frowned and tried to look over Teddy into the darkness of the bus but there were too many shadows.

"How many? Here, give me your hand." The hand without the bell was held out, and after a moment's hesitation, Teddy took it.

"Fourteen." He whispered, as he was pulled towards the stranger and towards whatever else was waiting outside the ruined bus.

On the hill, Salisa stared. Down below, the Hands stood in a straight line, unnaturally still as they had no need to breath, no need to fidget. Perfect soldiers; they felt no pain, no fear - just stumbled onward under the compulsion of their master. But who was their master? She had been the one to raise them, the one to force the weak spirits into rotting flesh and bone. The one who trekked into Death. She reached to her bandolier and stroked the handles of her bells, stubby fingers sliding over rough ebony.

She was their master.   
Not that coward, Shelley. 

Salisa drew forth Saraneth, holding the ebony handle in one hand, her other wrapped around the bronze clapper. 

The Necromancer strode purposefully down the hill, the long grass made a shushing sound as it brushed against her leather clad thighs, like the whispered sigh of a dying man. As she approached the tipped over vehicle she saw Shelley clambering out of the front, pulling a young man out with him.

Salisa raised her arms as she got closer, gathering her will, silently commanding the Dead to respond to her and her alone. Only three of the rotting heads turned and she bared her teeth, pushing more forcefully. They would listen, they would comply or she would send them back into Death and the cold endless river. Two more turned and as Shelley looked to see what was going on, Salisa saw him change his hold on Ranna, turning it to grab the handle and pushing the young man away from him in the same motion.

"Run - RUN BOY! Cover your ears!" She heard him call, raising his arm to swing the small silver bell.

Salisa beat him to it. Freeing Saraneth's clapper and pointing in one smooth motion, she swung the bell in a figure eight, a deep and resonant tone pealing forth. As she rang the bell, Salisa poured forth all the will power she could muster. There would be only one master from now on.

"Get him!" 

Teddy had intended on turning right back around and diving into the bus to try and find one of the other children as soon as his feet touched solid, right way up earth.   
But that plan was swiftly changed for him when his rescuer roughly shoved him away. Teddy staggered, nearly falling to the ground but caught himself at the last moment. He looked over his shoulder, terribly confused as the sounds of bells began to ring; one low and powerful the other soft, like a gentle caress on his forehead. He felt sleepy, wanting to lay down and close his eyes; yet another urge, an urge to turn and throw himself at the cloaked man, tugged at him.

Torn between two desires - neither of his making- one foot poised to run one way the other attempting to turn him around, Teddy stared wildly behind him.

A sight from one of Nan's horror stories confronted him.

The man in the cloak was facing off against a stocky woman in some strange parody of battle. The woman was dressed in an odd sleeveless leather jacket and her raised arms were covered in strange tattoos. She was swinging a bronze bell in wide circles and Teddy belated remembered to cover his ears. He slapped his hands up, drowning out both the low peal and gentle singing of the silver bell his rescuer was wielding. 

There were other forms in the melee, some shadowed shapes lay on the ground but the darkness made it difficult to see them clearly, but as the strange light hanging above the man's head swung and moved as he did, Teddy saw skeletal hands, shambling bodies, ripped clothes and rotting faces with their jaws hung wide. He cried out in fright, the sound loud and jarring, breaking whatever strange compulsions had taken a hold of him. Feet now willing to listen, Teddy turned fully back to the bus, intent on trying to pull someone, anyone, free from the wreckage. He thought of Victoria, holding his laundry folder, Joureth's solemn voice. He couldn't just leave them.

His cry had caught the attention of the cloaked man however, and he looked back, drawing forth a sword from somewhere beneath the cloak.

"No! RUN!" The man bellowed. The words were heavy and commanding, full of a power Teddy could not understand and could not disobey. 

His legs turned and carried him away, despite his brain screaming at him to stop, stop! To go back for the others but it was useless. Through a tremendous effort of will, Teddy kept his head turned back, despite the savage aching of his neck and he saw with building terror the light over the man's head flicker and die. In the fading brilliance Teddy saw him being swarmed, rotting hands pulling and tearing, and then it was dark, and everything was lost.

His hands still pressed over his ears, legs still carrying him onward of their own accord, Teddy ran.


	5. Chapter 5

It hadn't taken long for Katherine to catch up to Jonas; he was still sprawled on his stomach when she stopped her own mad dash down the hall. It had taken even less time for him to explain to her what had happened, and less time even then that for her to drag him back to her chambers and close the study door. 

"Jonas-what in the world possessed you to open such a thing!?" 

Jonas shrugged, his head hanging with shame and face burning with embarrassment. 

"I, I don't know- I didn't-I couldn't feel any Dead Spirit at first!" He said, knowing full well he sounded like a petulant child, and not the Abhorsen-in-waiting. 

"I'm sorry, Aunt Katherine. I tried to catch it. I tried to use the pipes…" he trailed off and felt his shoulders slump even further. In the moment when he should have been at his most competent; he had failed. Jonas bit his lip, self doubt eating gnawing away at his guts like a living thing 

"I'm so sorry." He whispered. He'd disappointed her, he'd disappointed his uncle and all the Abhorsen's before him. What would happen now? He had no idea what that spirit had been-size was really no indicator of power; it could already be wreaking havoc somewhere else in the glacier.

Katherine crossed her arms and stared at her nephew. The shame he felt was nearly palpable, and she felt for him, she really did. But this couldn't be allowed to slide.   
Katherine itched her lower lip with her thumb, frowning deeply. 

"Tell me again, what exactly happened." She said. As Jonas started recounting his tale, Katherine began pacing in front of her bookshelves, looking for one book in particular. After a moment she found what she was looking for and pulled a skinny red volume from its shelf and cracking it open, skimming the pages.

"A rat shape, you say? How many eyes?" She asked, flipping through the bestiary. There was no guarantee she'd find anything, but it was worth a look.   
Jonas was counting on his fingers,

"Uhh, five or six? It kept changing shape."  
Katherine hmm'd and flipped through more pages, a wrinkle between her eyebrows as she read.  
Jonas stood awkwardly, arms hanging at his sides, feeling lower than he had in a very long time. What had possessed him to open that thing? He bit his lip; simple curiosity, a thing that had gotten him into trouble more times than he'd like to admit. But there really had been no sense of evil about the music box. His Dead sense hadn't been triggered, and he would have noticed! The nausea was unmistakable. After a moment longer he cleared his throat.

"Um, Aunt Katherine-what should we, I mean, what should I do." He asked quietly. Katherine looked up at him, her eyes sharp.

"Fix the problem."   
Jonas raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Fix the-how?! I can't just go out and…" he trailed off.

"Can I?"   
The question hung in the air for a long moment, his Aunt's beady gaze never leaving his. Finally she turned the book she'd been flipping through around and pushed it into his chest.

"Was that what you saw?" Jonas took the book and flipped it right way round. The bestiary was old and small, the pages thin as onion skin under his fingers.   
A rough sketch of a similar rat creature was scrawled on the bottom left of the page, and Jonas read eagerly.

A Mourdrat-a vessel for a partial spirit, usually the fractured piece of a much greater whole. These creatures are fast and sly, and while easy to destroy on their own (with spell marked steel or a wand of Rowan) their entire purpose is to find the other parts of themselves and remake the Greater Dead spirit they were split from. Mourdrats break many of the hard and fast rules of the Dead; they need no grave dirt to be carried across running water, and may shift shape to better carry them to their destination. Note, destroying one Mourdrat does not destroy the whole spirit. In fact, if all are not destroyed within days of each other, a new Mourdrat will appear.

Jonas closed the book with a frown, keeping the page marked with a finger.

"A Mourdrat...I've never heard of such a thing." He said, turning the book over in his hand. Katherine let out a sigh that puffed her cheeks.

"I've only read about them, not very powerful on their own, but one being loose presents some serious problems...if we can catch it, we may be able to prevent it." She said, itching her lip again. Jonas gaped at her.

"Catch it!? How?" 

Katherine sighed and put her hands on her hips.

"How do you think? We go after it." She pointed vaguely in the direction of the end of the spiral.

"That tunnel leads into the heart of the glacier, which leads down to the Ratterlin. If that Mourdrat is trying to reconnect with the rest of itself, it's probably gone down to the river." She said in a matter of fact tone.  
Jonas was still frowning,

"It can't cross the river."

"No, but if it stowed away in the bag of a merchant…"

"Then it would be free to travel." Jonas finished, already stuffing the bestiary into his bag. 

"We have to hurry, maybe-maybe we can catch it before it escapes." He said quickly, trying to think if he had everything. With a pang, he remembered why he'd been sent to the glacier in the first place and bit his lip. There was nothing for it, he would have to leave his uncle's mysterious errand until he had fixed his mistake. His aunt checked her dagger in her sheath and then pulled the door to her study open, tapping her boot impatiently on the cold stone floor.

"Come along Jonas!"


	6. Chapter 6

Teddy ran until he could run no more. In fact, he didn't even recall running after the first hour, and when he'd collapsed, lungs squeezed and legs screaming, he'd passed out before he'd even hit the ground.

He woke up an indeterminate time later, body aching for an unknown reason. It was only when he went to stretch, and his overworked muscles tightened like coiled springs hard enough to make him retch, that he remembered the night before. Teddy moaned in pain and rubbed furiously at his calves, eyes prickling with tears both from the pain in his body and the ache in his heart. He knew somehow, despite the insanity of it all, that what he had witnessed had been real. The bus tipping over, the skeletal hands, the other children screaming, the man who'd rescued him, and the strange and terrifying battle he'd witnessed. All true. All real. He gasped and slowly sat up, a savage ache in his neck ensuring he moved very slowly. 

"God…" he leaned forwards, curling in on himself, and began to sob.

After a while, the tears slowed to a sniffle and Teddy looked around, trying to gauge where he might be. He was curled against a small hillock, rough grass poking into his sweater and mud soaked along his side and the seat of his pants. A large, gnarled tree hung over him, pooling shadow in the near dusk and providing a decent shelter. He sniffed and rubbed the back of his arm across his face. At least he'd managed to collapse somewhere sheltered. Sniffing again, Teddy took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to think. 

What could he do.  
There had to be something, anything he could do.

"Chin up Teddy." He muttered to himself, massaging his aching thighs.

He sat and he thought for what felt like a very long time and came up with nothing; he'd checked his watch after a little while, only to see it had stopped working and was stuck on twelve fifteen. Frustrated, and feeling stuck himself, Teddy took the watch off and pried the back off, digging around in his pocket for his trusty tool kit. Maybe he could fix the watch, he needed to fix something. Taking a small screwdriver from the kit, Teddy began to work. After only a few seconds, something caught his attention and he paused, tool held still in his hand. He strained to listen over the sound of night birds and the gentle rustling of leaves. 

Footsteps, dragging, shuffling footsteps.

As quietly as he could, Teddy put the tools and watch away and pressed himself into the shadows of the tree, eyes huge, holding his breath, remembering the similar sound that had heralded the horde of undead at the bus. His heart was hammering so hard he could feel the vibrations in his molars. 

Something shuffled into view. A tall form, hunched and twisted over, stumbled across the muddy ground. A ragged cape hung over its shoulders and a sword dragged limply through the muck, leaving a line. Teddy watched, fearful and apprehensive.  
The figure took another stumbling step and then fell face-first onto a mound of grass, gave a shudder, and then moved no more.

Teddy held his breath, watching with wide terrified eyes.

No movement.

After an eternity Teddy slowly peeled himself away from the tree and took a cautious step forward, fists raised in front of his face, ready to strike if he needed to. He approached the still figure and after steeling himself, poked it with his foot, jumping away in case it lurched back to life.  
Nothing.  
Teddy tried again,

"Hello?" He whispered, crouching a bit, ready to run.  
Nothing.  
He looked around and then very slowly crept close enough to roll the figure over. It was the man who had rescued him from the bus. His already scarred face was livid with a deep scratch from lip to cheek bone, and a chunk was missing from his ear. He was pale and as Teddy looked down in shock, he saw blood on the man's strange armor. He dropped to his knees, legs protesting the movement and gently shook the man's shoulder.

"Hello, hello, excuse me, sir?"  
The man groaned and rolled his head to the other side; Teddy winced as he saw mud press into the open wound.

"Sir, sir!" He shook him harder, jostling the man so much his armor clanked.

"Ugh...leave m'alone" the man mumbled, voice sounding raw and barely more than a whisper.  
Teddy shook him again, looking around in case any of those horrible dead things had followed the man.

"Sir! Wake up, you're hurt!" Teddy insisted. The man opened one bleary eye and squinted up at him.

"Who're you?" He rasped.

Teddy sat back and rested his trembling hands on his legs, rubbing them.

"I'm, my name is Theodore-you saved me! From the bus!" He whispered back. The man opened his other eye and stared, then his eyes widened.

"Boy-I told you to run, run away!" He croaked, then coughed into the mud. He groaned and swore most foully then rolled over, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"What are you doing here!?" He whispered. 

Teddy stared back.

"I-I did run, I ran more than I ever thought I could! And I don't even know where here is!!" He exclaimed, the panic he'd been pushing down starting to bubble up in his throat. It overflowed all at once, and his mouth started running without his brain really knowing.

"First my Nan dies, then I'm carted off to who knows where because nobody wants me, then we were attacked by monsters and now! Now I'm out in middle of nowhere and you're berating me for following your instructions!" All this came out in a rush, his hands waving as he spoke, eyes unfocused. The man stared at him, bloody scratch stark against his ashen skin. 

He slapped Teddy across the cheek.

Teddy stopped his babbling in an indignant gasp and raised his fist to punch back, as the man grimaced.

"Calm down boy-" Teddy felt his nostrils flare.

"I have a name, it's Theodore." He said sharply-the slap had cleared his head, the panic bolted back down in his gut where it burbled like indigestion. But it was under control. The man held up a hand in apology, reflexively going to touch his bruised jaw, right where Teddy had hit him before.

"Theodore, alright, be calm Theodore. You are alright and will continue to be if you shut up and listen." He whispered, wincing as if it pained him to speak. 

"My name is Shelley, and I mean you no harm." He massaged his throat. The scratch on his face and notch from his ear had stopped bleeding, the stained blood mixing in an ugly manner with the purple bruising on his jawline. 

Teddy stared at him,

"Nice to meet you, Shelley." He held out a hand, as his Nan had taught him, and Shelley looked down at it with a mildly baffled expression. Then, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he shook Teddy's hand. 

"Pleasure, Theodore." The handshake dropped and Shelley put a hand to his side, wincing.

"I am injured, and need to rest before we leave-" Teddy interrupted him,

"Leave?" He said,

"Leave for where? I have nowhere to go back to." Teddy finished, sadness in his voice. Shelley looked up from examining the wound in his side, frowning.

"Back to Bain, or somewhere other than here. Someone must be able to take you from there. Family? Friends?" He asked. Teddy shook his head.

"No. No family, no friends. Just that school in Bain-but I don't want to go there either! Not without the others." He said emphatically. He really hadn't wanted to be carted off to some place up north; if he had been older, he would have been able to live on his own, but at fifteen he wasn't legally allowed to. When he mentioned the others, Victoria, Joureth, Samuel, he bit his lip and looked at Shelley.

"The others on the bus...what happened to them?" He asked lowly, unable to stop himself from imagining horrible scenarios where they were all eaten or slain. Shelley grunted and reached into a bag on his belt, removing a small bundle of cloth that he pressed to his bleeding side with a grimace.

"Taken," he grunted, baring his teeth in pain as he pressed on the bandage. Teddy blinked.

"Taken? Taken where?" He asked sharply. Shelley didn't look up.

"Zurlish." He said. 

"What?"

"They were taken by Salisa to Zurlish, we were supposed to deliver the cargo there and be done with it! Now be quiet while I try and stop my insides from falling out!" Shelley snapped-or tried to. His voice broke and he coughed roughly. Teddy scowled and leaned forward.

"Where is Zurlish-and who is Salisa and why were they taken and why were YOU helping!?" Teddy demanded. He was in no mood to be pushed around, and the thought that Shelley was a full grown man, with a sword, did not even enter his mind as he stood up, glaring down.

"Tell me what happened, tell me please." His tone changed to something softer at the end of his sentence. He was thinking fast; maybe, maybe there was something he could do. Teddy didn't know where Zurlish was, but Shelley clearly did, and if Shelley had been willing to help him-a total stranger- then maybe he would be willing to help thirteen more.

Shelley hissed through his teeth and ignored Teddy. The man closed his eyes and muttered something so quiet Teddy couldn't make it out. A strange glow began to eminate from the wound in his side and the hand pressing against it. Teddy looked up in shock and saw a mark on Shelley's forehead glowing softly with the same, warm light. It hit him suddenly that this was the same light he'd seen hanging above Shelley's head when he'd pulled him from the bus.  
After a moment, the pained look on Shelley's face subsided a little and he opened his eyes, looking up at Teddy.

"No."

"No what."

"I know what you're thinking-I'm taking you back to Bain and that's the end of it." Shelley whispered, pulling the bandage away from his side. The bleeding had stopped, and he looked very tired.

"But first, I need to rest." He said, laying back against the muddy ground with a sigh. Teddy stared at him indignantly. 

"We have to do something, I have to do something! I can't just let Victoria be taken away, Joureth too! And Samuel and Lynn and all the others!" He scowled down at Shelley.

"No." Shelley rasped, without looking at him.

"If you won't take me there, tell me where to go and I'll go myself."  
Shelley ignored him and Teddy stormed away for a moment, half thinking to head off on his own without any direction whatsoever. 

"Wait-I'll tell you." A hoarse whisper came from behind him and Teddy stopped. He turned around and walked back. Shelley looked up at him from his position on the ground and then gestured to the muddy earth.

"Don't stand over me, sit down." He said. Teddy sat down and crossed his arms.

"Tell me what happened-and tell me what that weird light was." Teddy said. Shelley sighed and gestured to his forehead.

"It's called Charter magic-"

"And what's that?" Teddy interrupted.  
Shelley groaned.

"I was just about to-Boy if you're going to interrupt me every three seconds just let me sleep." He hissed.  
Teddy balled his hands into fists.

"I told you my name is Theodore." He replied. Shelley sighed and started again.

"Yes, Theodore, as I was saying, Theodore-Charter magic comes from the Great Charter, the thing that binds everything together. You Ancelsterrian's are too far away to have seen magic, but it can be used in all sorts of ways. To heal,"

"Like that light you made," Teddy added and Shelley nodded from his prone position in the mud.

"Yes, the light. I can't explain how it all works so just accept that it does and let's move on." This was counter to Teddy's entire being; he needed to know how things worked, but he kept his hundreds of questions to himself and listened as Shelley continued.

"Salisa is another...Necromancer, someone who can control the Dead through these." He held up his left hand, which was still clutching the small silver bell he'd had when he'd pulled Teddy from the bus.

"It's complicated, so don't ask-even though I believe that may be hard for you." He said wryly. Teddy had just opened his mouth to ask a question, but bit his lip and nodded instead. 

"Very good. Salisa and I-yes we worked together, no we were not friends-were hired to retrieve what I was told was cargo, from a bus heading to Bain." Shelley continued,

"I had no idea the cargo we were sent to fetch would be children, although I suspect Salisa might have known. If I had understood what was really going on, I never would have taken the job." He sighed and settled back further into the mud, not seeming to care that it was seeping into the fur around his collar. 

"When I found out, I tried to stop it and, well," he gestured to his bloody armor.

"You saw the rest." Teddy nodded slowly. Did he believe Shelley? He wasn't sure, but he had helped him. Head buzzing with questions Teddy tried to pick the most relevant one out of the mess.

"And you're sure the others are still alive?" He asked softly. Shelley sighed and looked up to the stars.

"I don't know. I believe that they may be; Salisa couldn't control that many Hands, she's not powerful enough. I'm surprised she mustered the ones she did." Teddy didn't know what that meant, but he pressed on.

"So, so why would they be taken to Zurlish?" He asked. The man in the mud shrugged.

"I don't know, but it won't be for a party, i can tell you that much." Shelley sighed. Teddy stood up and began to pace, thinking hard. Why would this Necromancer Salisa need children? And who had hired the pair to kidnap them? After a few minutes he turned back to Shelley, who had his eyes closed.

"Take me to Zurlish." He said. Shelley cracked one eye.

"I already told you, no."  
Teddy balled his fists again and stood straighter, tugging his sweater smooth.

"Please."

"Mm, no." 

"This is important. I need to at least try and-" Shelley sat up, the mud making an unpleasant squelching sound as it pulled away from his back.

"And what? Rescue them? From a Necromancer and her Hands? How?" He asked with a sharp, wheezing laugh. Teddy felt his nostrils flare and he glared.

"You'll help me." He said flatly. That made Shelley laugh, a hoarse, wheezing sound that made him clutch his side.

"And why would I do that?" He asked, disdain dripping from every syllable. Teddy held his chin up.

"Because it's the right thing to do, and you're a good man." Teddy said earnestly, and Shelley's laughter died. He stared at Teddy for a while, gaze sharp.

"You don't know anything about me."  
He finally said, and there was no trace of mirth in his hoarse whisper. Teddy shook his head.

"Untrue. You saved me, didn't you? You didn't have to do that. You fought off those monsters so I could get away, who other than a good man would have done that?" He said. Shelley looked at him, expression cold and fathomless. 

"I don't know why I helped you, in fact, I probably shouldn't have. You're turning out to be trouble." He said, and Teddy finally remembered that he was a teenager with just his fists, and that Shelley was a full grown adult with a sword. He swallowed. 

"Just, please. Please help me find them." He said quietly. Shelley looked at him, and for a long moment they stared at each other in the silent evening, a chill mist creeping in to curl around the base of the tree. 

"Please." Teddy whispered.  
Shelley sighed as if the entire world had just been dumped on his shoulders and he sagged forwards.

"I am not doing anything tonight. I need to rest. Do you know how to build a fire." That wasn't a yes, but it also wasn't a no. Teddy took that as a good sign. 

"Yes, I'll get that going right now." He turned quickly and gathered some convenient sticks, thinking all the while on how he might fully convince Shelley to take him to Zurlish. Teddy returned a few minutes later with hid arms full of wood to see Shelley up and with his sword drawn, point dug into the dirt.

"What are you doing?" Teddy asked warily, wondering if he'd been wrong all along and would now have to fight for his life. Shelley didn't look up as he drew the sword along the earth, pausing at a point and muttering something.

"I'm making a diamond of protection; it'll keep us safe through the night." He scratched a mark into the mud and Teddy saw it glow briefly before Shelley moved on to another point.

"Is that more Charter magic?" Teddy asked, curious despite himself as he set the wood down in the middle of the diamond. Shelley didn't reply immediately. He seemed to struggle for a moment, then a final golden mark appeared in the mud and he stepped away with a sigh.

"Yes," he whispered, "like I said it will keep us safe. Make that fire, I'm going to sleep." And with that, he practically fell back to the ground and almost instantly started to snore.  
Teddy blinked, and then bent to the business of starting a fire. He didn't expect to get any sleep tonight. Chin up, Teddy.


End file.
